Wish for the Future
by slef
Summary: Set far into the future. A young student tries to find out what exactly what had happened during the Gathering. Warning: Character death.


Wish for the Future  
By Leoni Venter  
  
Summer, 2210, Alpha Centauri Prime (First Colony)  
  
The student piloted his skimmer amongst tall buildings, dodging the orderly flow of the scheduled air taxis,   
slipping past crowded mid-air walkways and under soaring bridges connecting the towering architecture of New   
Start City. As he passed the Inner City and moved to the East, the traffic thinned to the extent that he could re-  
engage the autopilot to take the skimmer the rest of the way.  
  
The student, Varnus ren D'son the Third, was very excited at the prospect of meeting the greatest man Mankind   
had ever known. At least, he hoped he'd get to meet the man, because Varnus had not exactly made an   
appointment. When his teacher had announced their assignment: "Write an essay about someone whose efforts   
had made a difference", Varnus had known he could write about only one person. And what could be better than   
to actually meet and interview the man.  
  
He'd not even told his parents about his plan. He'd just checked up on the address his research on the Net had   
turned up, took the skimmer and set off, hoping, against hope really, that the great Methos would see him.  
  
Flying now over the estates of the original colonists, Varnus thought a bit smugly about his detective work on   
the Net. The great Methos was not a public figure at all. His appearance and location was a closely guarded   
secret, and Varnus had almost given up on his search when he thought of a possibility.  
  
Although no one ever saw or heard from him, Methos did occasionally publish a book; things with titles such as   
"Sword care, and other useless information" or "A complete history of Beer". Varnus found these books to be   
mostly full of cynical or somewhat sarcastic views on current and historical events, and he reflected that it   
certainly wasn't Methos' writing that had made a difference. It must have been something else, and Varnus   
planned to find out what.  
  
So he traced communications to and from Methos' publishers, and finally hit on one address that fit the bill. So   
here he was, skimming across neatly tilled farmland towards the mountains, giggling a little as he remembered   
his favorite Methos quote. "A sword in the hand is worth ten in the closet." He didn't really understand it but the   
thought of anyone actually using a sword for real sounded very cool to him.  
  
The skimmer slowed down as the autopilot disengaged, and Varnus took the controls once more. Looking   
around he spotted a house built high up in a valley, shaded by trees. He carefully flew the skimmer along the   
narrow dirt road to avoid hitting any trees, and set it down where the path broadened into a clearing in front of   
the house.  
  
At the door he had to look around for a means to signal his presence, as there was no vid-screen, only a little   
white button set into the doorframe. Shrugging, he pressed the button. Deep inside the house a hollow 'ding-  
dong' reverberated. Varnus marveled for a moment at this primitive arrangement, then footsteps sounded and the   
door opened.  
  
"Can I help you?" the young man asked.  
  
"I'd like to see the great Methos," Varnus announced, feeing important.  
  
The man at the door seemed amused. "Why?" he asked, looking a Varnus as if he was a little child.  
  
Varnus bristled a little at that. "I am Varnus ren D'son the Third," he said, feeling the weight of his name. "I've   
come to interview the great Methos for a school project. Who might you be?"  
  
His name provoked a raised eyebrow. "You're the grandson of the Colony founder? I am sorry to disappoint   
you, Ser D'son, but the 'great' Methos isn't here. I am Adam Pierson, his personal assistant."  
  
"He's not here?" The wind left Varnus' sails. "But I've come so far… When will he be back? I can wait…"  
  
Adam shook his head. "Not for a week or so, I'd think."  
  
Varnus cast about for something that could make this trip less of the waste it was turning out to be. "You're his   
personal assistant? Can't I talk to you instead? I mean, you must know him better than anybody…"  
  
"I suppose so," Adam conceded. "Come on in." He led the way through a dark corridor and into a sunlit room,   
where simple chairs dotted a wide expanse of wooden flooring. The walls had a sparse collection of black-and-  
white photographs of Old-Earth cities, and a series of wide windows looked out onto the majestic peaks behind   
the house.  
  
"Anything to drink?" Adam asked, pausing as Varnus took a seat. "You're too young for beer, I guess."  
  
"I'll have a Cola," Varnus agreed.  
  
Adam disappeared for a moment into another room, and came back with an auto-cool can of Cola, and a bottle of   
(presumably) beer. "Here you go." He sat down. "So what's your project about?"  
  
"We have to write about someone who made a difference," Varnus said. "And I've read my grandfather's   
original Colony logs, and I thought it would be great if I could talk with an original Colonist who is still alive."  
  
"Okay," Adam said. "I'll grant that he's still alive, but what difference did he make?" He sipped his beer.   
"Methos always kept to himself, you know."  
  
"My grandfather wrote that Methos made it possible for Man to colonize the stars," Varnus said. He jumped to   
his feet as Adam suddenly choked on his beer. "Are you alright?"  
  
Adam waved him off. "I'm fine, I'm fine." He wiped his tearing eyes. "I've just never heard that one before.   
Methos did no such thing, kid."  
  
"But, didn't he defeat the evil MacLeod and unite Mankind?" Varnus asked incredulously. Sure, it was obscure   
history, and the only mention he'd ever found was in his grandfather's documents, but he was certain that those   
documents were accurate, and he'd grown up believing those tales.  
  
Adam sighed in exasperation. "Look kid, if you want to write about Methos, at least get your facts straight.   
MacLeod was a good and honorable man. Methos was his friend."  
  
"Then what happened? Why did they fight?"  
  
"Because they had no choice," Adam said, his voice tinged with sadness.  
  
* * *  
  
It was the time of the Gathering. From all over the world Immortals were drawn together to fight for the Prize,   
though no one knew what it was. The individual Challenges of the past increased in number so that few could   
avoid them, and very few wanted to.  
  
The urge to fight grew so strong that Immortals threw aside their secret existence and started to Challenge each   
other in full view of mortals, with no regard for the consequences. It was at this time that the group known as the   
Watchers finally published their knowledge of Immortals, to pacify an increasingly worried mortal world.  
  
"They fight only their own kind," was the message they spread, and mortals began to avidly follow the   
Challenges to see who'd win.  
  
Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, and Methos, the oldest Immortal, were friends, and had agreed not to   
fight each other, if they could resist it. Methos could resist anything, and he resisted the draw of the Gathering as   
he'd resisted his thirst for power for three thousand years. He avoided Challenges and took fewer heads during   
the Gathering than ever before.  
  
MacLeod never avoided a Challenge. He also never sought them out, but such was his reputation that Immortals   
all came after him. Waves of Immortals broke against the Highlander as a stormy sea broke against a sturdy sea   
wall. Undefeated, he shielded Methos from hundreds of fights.  
  
The uncharitable might say that Methos was only biding his time, waiting for MacLeod to finish them all before   
he Challenged him, but in truth, Methos had no wish to fight anyone, least of all MacLeod. He hoped against   
hope that a solution would present itself, so that they might live in peace.  
  
Alas, it was not to be. The final Quickening that MacLeod took was one grown in size and power, a Quickening   
of such malevolent evil that it couldn't even be compared with the Dark Quickening MacLeod had experienced   
years before.  
  
MacLeod, no longer the honorable Highlander, Challenged Methos, and they met on the high cliffs above the sea   
one stormy afternoon.  
  
* * *  
Seacouver, 2050  
  
The top of a cliff overlooking the ocean. The sun blood-red on the horizon. Storm clouds threatening overland.   
The last day of the Gathering.  
  
The two opponents on the crumbling edge of the cliff eyed each other warily. They knew, with the certainty born   
of the memories of their race, that they were the only two left. And they knew, with grim irony, that whoever   
won would gain the Prize, but would lose a friend.  
  
Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, and Methos, eldest of them all had, in more peaceful times, wondered   
what they would do when the Gathering came and they ended up as the final two. Mostly they hoped it wouldn't   
come to that, or that they could just ignore the whole thing. Now they knew for a fact that they could not.  
  
Methos tried to see his friend in the eyes of the man opposite him, but MacLeod had been overcome by his   
previous Quickening, or at least Methos hoped it was that, and that his friend had not changed by choice into the   
bloodthirsty killer he now was.  
  
Still, he did not want to kill MacLeod. He certainly did not want the Prize, whatever it was, but his will to   
survive had not allowed him to give up before. And now, with the man he'd thought most worthy to win the   
Prize, become a monster? Could he kill MacLeod? No, dare he let MacLeod win, now? He didn't think so. And   
MacLeod wanted… no, was compelled to fight, and had no desire to resist it.  
  
Methos tried in vain to reason with him, to reach the man who was his friend, but he might as well have been   
talking to a stranger. In the end he cried in anguish: "I will not fight you, Highlander!" to which the cold voice   
sneeringly replied: "You'll die then, all the same!"  
  
And they fought. Methos had to reach back into himself for every second of his five thousand years' experience   
to defend against this fury, a dark being driven by countless souls screaming for revenge, lusting after the Prize.  
  
And there came a moment of utter stillness when time froze, when the blade of a sword cut through the air,   
shattering the instant and burning without any resistance through Methos' being. All became dark.  
  
* * *  
  
Varnus had listened in amazement as Adam told the tale. He'd known of Immortals all his life, from his   
grandfather's writings, but he'd never understood how it must have been for them. And Adam told the story as if   
he'd witnessed it himself. Methos must have told it to him countless times, Varnus supposed.  
  
Adam sat lost in thought, seemingly oblivious to the presence of the boy in the room. He looked out of the   
window as if he saw, not mountains, but a stormy sea crashing against the base of a cliff, crashing over the body   
of the Highlander, where he fell, cleaved in two by the blade of a friend.  
  
Varnus didn't want to disturb Adam, but he wanted to hear the rest of the story, so he spoke softly. "Adam?   
What happened then?"  
  
Adam shifted his gaze to the boy. "Methos stood on the cliff, waiting for the worst Quickening of his life. At a   
distance, helicopters with camera crews tried to record the whole thing, but this was one Quickening no one   
could tape."  
  
"What happened?" Varnus asked in awe.  
  
* * *  
  
The sea crashing around the body of the Highlander showed the first sign, as the water began to glow. Then a   
blue mist rose from the waves, coalescing into a vague figure that rose above the cliffs and towered over the   
sobbing figure of Methos.  
  
The ancient Immortal looked up into the face of doom, or so it seemed to him. The whole universe seemed   
frozen in that moment, and he braced himself for the onslaught.   
  
Then the figure spoke, if speaking is the right word. In any case, Methos heard its voice in his mind.  
  
"Here now is the Prize, Champion. To the victor, three wishes are granted. Choose your wishes well, Methos, for   
they will come true."  
  
Three wishes? It seemed like a joke. "I don't understand," Methos gasped. "What sort of wishes?"  
  
The apparition seemed taken aback. "You've won the Prize, now choose your reward," it said. "You can rule   
Mankind, you can rule the Universe!"  
  
"I don't want to rule anything," Methos groaned. "I just want Mankind to grow up, let me live in peace and quiet   
so that I can be just a guy!"  
  
"Done!" the apparition cried triumphantly, and exploded into a blue ring of energy that swept around the globe   
in an instant.  
  
The helicopters turned away, the camera crews wondered what they were doing there, and on the cliff Methos   
wondered just what exactly had happened.  
  
Methos went home and mourned for his friend, and only noticed the global changes some days later.   
Governments had stopped oppressing people, crime seemed to disappear, and a joint project to develop practical   
space flight was launched, all within a week after Methos had made his "wish".  
  
It wasn't such a strange thing, after all. Mankind was finally growing up. People were taking responsibility for   
their actions and everyone could see how silly war was.  
  
And no one bothered the Immortal guy at all.  
  
* * *  
  
"Three wishes?" Varnus wondered.  
  
"Yeah. One… Mankind growing up. Two… Methos living in peace and quiet, and three… Methos is just a guy"   
Adam replied, grinning a little.  
  
"So that's why I can't even find a photo of him?"  
  
"Yep, no one ever thinks he's worth photographing," Adam smiled. "No point in taking a picture of just a guy,   
you know."  
  
"I would take his picture," Varnus protested. "I'm sure I'd know him if I saw him."  
  
"I'm sure you would, kid," Adam agreed. "But you'd have to see him first."  
  
"I will, one day."  
  
"So," Adam leaned forward. "Did I tell you enough for you project?"  
  
"Yeah!" Varnus said fervently. "I'm going to write a killer essay! I never really knew exactly what Methos did   
for us, but this is far more than I expected." He stood up. "Thank you for your time, Ser Pierson, and for your   
story."  
  
"It's my pleasure, Ser D'son," Adam said as he led the way to the door. "Have a safe flight home."  
  
"I will," Varnus replied, hopping into the skimmer. He took off with a flourish, well pleased with how the day   
had turned out.   
  
Methos watched the great-great-great-great grandson of Joe Dawson fly off, and he smiled to think that   
Dawson's curiosity and fascination with Immortals seemed to run as strong in this young one as in the original.  
  
The Colony founder was the first D'son to leave Earth, and he did so to follow Methos, the one remaining   
Immortal to Watch.  
  
Methos turned and went back into his quiet, peaceful house on Alpha Centauri Prime, took a piece of paper and   
started to write the "Complete History and Travels of the Dawson Family."  
  
The End.  
  
© Leoni Venter 25 August 2002  
  
  
Disclaimer:  
  
Methos and Immortal Lore belong to Rysher: Panzer/Davis. No copyright infringement is intedended and no profit is gained from this.  
  
Varnus and the Colony on Alpha Centauri Prime is mine, all mine! :-)  
  
Written in less than 24 hours, this is almost a record for me :-) 


End file.
